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The wife's absence has left a void that the husband fills with his own hand. He sits back, his eyes closed, imagining her touch as he pleasures himself. His strokes are firm, purposeful, each one bringing him closer to release. He can feel the tension building, his balls tightening, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He fights the urge to cum, wanting to draw out his pleasure. His body is a canvas of sweat and desire, a testament to his self-imposed torture. Finally, with a guttural groan, he succumbs, his hot seed spilling forth, a symbol of his unfulfilled longing.